Snippets of Life
by wereachforthestars
Summary: Each chapter is a moment that could've taken place during various places in the series. Unrelated chapters, for the most part. Most scenarios are canon-compliant. Olitz, and maybe a little Mellivia.
1. Chapter 1

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 **A/N: So I was rewatching episodes of Scandal because of the hiatus lately, and I thought that Liv was practically a different person in Thwack! (5x17). I had some free time, so this is just a short oneshot on how Olivia could've had a different, more emotional reaction.**

Olivia felt the drops of Andrew's blood on her face, her hands still cold from gripping the freezing metal chair. She was slumped against the wall, and all she could feel was...numb. Which was why, when the bunker door opened, she didn't care who it was, didn't care that there was a chance she could be executed for the murder of the former Vice President; she didn't even raise her head up, only shut her eyes in anguish as the red doors flashed through her mind,

She'd thought that it would all stop once Andrew was dead, thought that her PTSD would fade away like Andrew's life had. She'd watched the light drain from his eyes, watched his smugness turn to terror as she bashed his head in, and it scared her that it felt... _good._ It had felt _liberating._ Oh god, she thought, what's wrong with me?

Perhaps some part of her had been corrupted by her father, since no one could escape from his unscathed in some way, whether physical or mental. Perhaps some part of her had been damaged beyond repair. Olivia didn't even realize she was crying until someone laid their hand on her shoulder, she finally looked up, and saw the tear drip down on the metal floor, slightly red from where they'd slid through the drops of blood.

Her stomach turned as she looked into his face, expecting to see disgust and even pity in his blue eyes. He pulled her towards him, not caring if she got blood on his suit, gently rocking her, trying to stop her crying and increasingly rapid breaths that bordered on the edge of hyperventilation. Fitz quickly took off her coat, pressing her face against his chest.

"Hear that?" he asked, positioning her next to his heart. "Just breath with me, Liv. In-that's right-and out. In….Out…" And so it continued, and when Olivia was at least not on the verge of a panic attack, Fitz was just about to help her stand when the door slid open once more, followed by Abby's horrified shout. "Oh my God!"

Olivia stiffened in Fitz's arms, and he quickly motioned for Abby to leave. After a moment's hesitation, Abby took another lingering look at the mess on the floor and exited the bunker. Olivia was still crying, tears silently falling down her face, and Fitz was unaccustomed to seeing her like this; he normally had to pry emotion out of her, and even then, it was only a few seconds of sadness before her walls were back up. Now, she was so broken in such a large scale, and all he could do was hold her.

Olivia tried to time her breaths with Fitz's, and when, after nearly half an hour on the floor, she felt calm enough, she started blurting everything out, things she'd thought that she would never tell anyone. "Fitz…It felt...good. I liked the feeling of his head caving in, liked the blood. It was satisfying, Fitz. My...my guy is out now, and I thought that killing Andrew would make everything go away, but it didn't. I killed someone Fitz, when I was being held hostage in that airplane hangar. I killed someone, and I also whacked someone in the head with a metal pipe, just to get to the red doors. But when I got there, it was all a trap, and I still have the same nightmares every night, and I'm suffocating under Lois's dead body, and I-"

Olivia was rambling now, not making much sense, just spewing out words, but Fitz got the gist of it and held her as she told him all her secrets. "Fitz, I don't even know who I am anymore," Olivia said; by now, she'd ventured into more than just murdering Nichols. "When Jerry died, all I could think, as I sat in the waiting room with Cyrus, was that you were getting four more years in the Oval, that you were going to win. What sort of a person even thinks like that? You're the most important person in my life, and after you'd suffered this huge loss, all I could think about was the political benefits."

Olivia fell silent then, watching Fitz's expressions. He leaned down and kissed her so gently that she wanted to cry again. "Let's just start over," he whispered. "Let's just forget about all the things we've done to each other, okay? And once I'm done with the presidency, we can go to Vermont and start an actual life together. Okay?" "Okay," Olivia breathed, and as she stood up, she actually did feel relatively okay now. Maybe a new beginning was just what she needed, she thought, wiping the blood from her face.

 _~Fin_


	2. Chapter 2

Recovery:

 **A/N: This is right after Liv's kidnapping, when she returned to her apartment. In this scenario, Fitz didn't go to war for her, and they are on good terms. Please R &R!**

"Do you need anything? Should I stay tonight?" Jake was walking around in her kitchen, opening her cabinet doors, looking beseechingly at her. Olivia shook her head. "No, Jake, I'm good. I'm fine. You can leave now." "Liv-" "You can leave." She steered him towards the door and then slammed it in his face right as he stepped out, turning all the locks that Huck had installed. She knew that she was perfectly safe now, but there was still that feeling of terror at the back of her brain, and she instinctively reached for the gun that she now had, courtesy of Huck.

Olivia walked back to the kitchen, and just as she was pouring herself some wine, there was a knock on the door. She jumped, nearly spilling the wine all over the floor, and then set the glass down with shaky hands, slowly stepping to the door and looking through the peephole. Her eyes met a pair of crystal-blue ones, and it was like she had taken a breath of fresh air. She couldn't undo the locks fast enough, and when she did, she wrenched open the door and pulled him into her apartment. Fitz. Her haven. Everything was okay when he was there.

For a moment, they stood there, surveying each other, and then Olivia quickly shut the door. Fitz eyed the plethora of locks adorning the door as she did so, but made no comment on it. "Hi," he said instead. "Hi." That one word that Olivia hadn't said in so long to him, to anyone. "I missed you," she said, and the slight tension between them broke. She stepped into his arms, relishing his warmth and solidness after weeks of being in a completely alien environment.

"I missed you too," he replied, gently moving them towards the couch. Olivia sat down heavily, still wearing the shirt that Ian had issued her. The coarse, grey fabric was scratchy against her skin, and perhaps Fitz noticed her discomfort, because he looked down at her. "You want to clean up?" he asked gently. Olivia nodded against his shoulder. "I want a shower."

"Okay. Sure. You can do anything you want now. Anything at all," Fitz said in reply, and Olivia was hit with the realization that she could do anything now. She was home. "Okay?" Fitz asked. "Okay," she echoed quietly, and reluctantly got up.

She walked down the hall to the bathroom, and quickly stripped off her clothes, throwing them carelessly into the trash. "Are you going to be okay?" Fitz asked her. Olivia hesitated. "Can you stay?" For a moment, Fitz was speechless as he took in her vulnerability. Then: "Okay. Definitely. Of course." Olivia turned on the shower and stepped under the spray, turning her face up towards the water.

Fitz stepped in after her, stripping off his clothes, and as she revelled in the water, started to lather shampoo into her hair, separating her curls as he'd once seen her do. After a while, she started to do it herself, and Fitz stood behind her, tracing circles across her shoulders.

Once she'd stepped out of the shower, Olivia did feel marginally better, more like herself again. She put on some pajamas and then went down to the kitchen to get more wine, only to have Fitz gently take the bottle out of her hand. "You need to eat some food," he said, searching through her cabinets and refrigerator. All he found was two other bottles of wine and a box of popcorn, and he turned to her, nonplussed.

"Where's all your food?" he asked, and Olivia felt a sense of deja vu as she remembered Leo Bergen once rifling through her fridge and obnoxiously asking the same thing. "Guess it's take-out?" she suggested, and ten minutes later, Fitz was giving an awed teenaged boy a handsome tip as he took the box of food from his hands.

"This is just like old times," he murmured to Olivia, as they sat on the couch, making makeshift plates out of the containers. And it was; Olivia had lost count of the times they'd done this before, whether for work or just spending time together. She set her food onto the coffee table, and sighed, curling up against Fitz.

She noticed that he'd covered up the wine stain with his jacket, and was grateful that she didn't have to stare at it, instead playing with Fitz's tie, focusing on the color, the pattern. She didn't even notice that she was nearly asleep until Fitz shifted slightly to give her a better resting place. All of a sudden, she looked up. "I'm going to dream about it," she whispered. "No, I'll protect you," Fitz replied instantly. "You won't, with me here."

Olivia didn't question his logic, and laid down again. Surprisingly, Fitz was right; she didn't dream about her kidnapping that night. Perhaps she subconsciously was aware of his presence, or maybe she was too exhausted to dream. Either way, she woke in the morning to the sun on her face, and looked up to watch Fitz's chest rising and falling methodically.

She looked at the gun on the coffee table and knew that there was a long way to go before she returned to the person she once was. But then she returned her gaze to Fitz, and realized that the road to recovery might not be too hard if he was always there by her side.

 _Fin_


	3. Chapter 3

The Meeting:

 **A/N: This is just a fluffy oneshot featuring a relationship between Olivia and Teddy. Please R &R!**

Olivia stalked into the Oval, having received a call from Cyrus about a meeting. However, the room was empty. Well, not empty, Olivia noted, as Teddy, his small hands holding a teddy bear (how fitting, she thought in amusement), walked up to her. Surprisingly, the child made Olivia slightly nervous, seeing as how he was Mellie's child and all, but she quickly accepted the bear he was holding up to her hands.

"Hi," Teddy said. "What's your name?" Olivia looked at him. "I'm Olivia," she finally replied, checking her watch. Where was Cyrus at? "Livia," Teddy said. "Right. And you're Teddy, right?" How could she, Olivia Pope, feel awkward talking to a child that was barely three?

"Yep!" Teddy reached for the bear that Olivia was still holding, and she relinquished it quickly, handing it back to him. Teddy played on the floor, on the floor, walking his bear over the presidential seal. Olivia smiled.

Soon, Teddy made his way back to her. "Livia play with me?" he asked. Didn't he have a nanny for this sort of thing? Olivia looked at him uncomfortably, and then suddenly thought of how Mellie probably never played with him except on camera. "Sure," she replied, which was how she found herself on her knees, making a stuffed bear talk. She wasn't at all good at it, but Teddy seemed entertained enough, so she continued.

Fitz was late for his second meeting of the day, and Cyrus was reminding him constantly as he stalked down the halls of the White House. He'd just left the first meeting, which was with the CIA director, and he was still trying to comprehend the deluge of information and statistics she'd thrown at him. He'd gotten the gist though; he needed to do more.

This had made him rather irritated, and when Teddy's nanny, Jennifer (Jen, for short), stopped him, he snapped a, "What?" at her before continuing to walk. Jen looked like she was about to cry. "Sir, sir, I'm so sorry; I went to the bathroom while Teddy was taking his nap, and when I came back, he wasn't in the Residence, and I haven't been able to find him. I've started lowering the bars on his crib, but I didn't think that he would go roaming about, especially when he'd been asleep-"

Fitz held up a hand, not comprehending Jen's rambling; he'd only heard to "wasn't in the Residence" before blanking out, and immediately turned to Cyrus, meeting forgotten. "Get the SS on it," he commanded. "Jen, check again in the Residence. I'll look in the Oval and in all the places that he possibly could've gone."

Jen left immediately, but Cyrus hesitated, and Fitz glowered, which sent him walking off in the other direction with a sigh. Fitz hurriedly ran to the Oval, nearly running several curious aides over, but when he wrenched open the door, he stopped suddenly, taking in the scene before him.

Olivia Pope was sitting next to Teddy on the floor, and they were playing with a teddy bear, some blocks, and a few rubber ducks, Olivia making a stack of blocks to support them. Teddy was laughing at something Olivia said, more so than he'd ever laughed with Mellie. Olivia had turned at his entrance, and there was slight embarrassment on her face, an expression he didn't see often.

Fitz took out his phone and quickly sent a text to Cyrus to tell him to call off the search. Meanwhile, Teddy had walked up to him, giggling quietly. "Daddy! This is Liv." He pointed at Olivia. Fitz could barely suppress his laughter. "Yeah, Teddy, we've met before," he replied, ruffling his son's hair.

Olivia stood. "Fitz. I was told there would be a meeting, but when I got here, no one was in, except for Teddy, so I-" Fitz cut her off. "Don't worry," he said. "I think the meeting can wait." He kneeled down next to Teddy's block tower, and Teddy quickly joined him in delight. Olivia looked hesitant, but when Teddy tugged on her leg, she too sat. "Look," Teddy pointed at the duck. "Daddy duck and Mommy duck." He picked up two rubber ducks. "And this one," he added, picking up another, "is Liv duck!" Olivia laughed at that, but there was sadness in her tone as she took the duck from Teddy with a quiet, "thanks."

Fitz glanced at her, knowing the exact reason for that quiet sadness, but then looked away before she noticed. As he watched Olivia rearrange the blocks for Teddy's bear, he knew that he would try harder than ever to make them work, because Olivia and Teddy together was something that he wanted to see more often. And perhaps Olivia was thinking the same thing he was, for she looked across at him and smiled. Fitz smiled back. He would definitely try harder, he thought, and maybe she would too.

 _~Fin_


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: So this is just a really short one-shot on what Olivia might think of herself using Jake and Russell to have hate-sex after her kidnapping, and how that affects the bond between her and Fitz. Please R&R, and constructive criticism is always welcome!

Olivia looked into the mirror, at the shadows beneath her eyes and at her gaunt face. Her hands reached down to grip the sink, to touch the clean white marble of the White House bathrooms, and then as her hands made contact, she was suddenly in a different room.

The room with the bricked up window and the dirty toilet and the grimy sink, the room with the green walls and that table, and-Oh god, fuck, she'd used that table to bash Gus's head in-

Olivia knew in some part of her that it wasn't real, but she panicked, touching the walls of the room and then trying the door, remembering sinking to the floor, crying and nearly hyperventilating. Oh god, she had to get out, why couldn't she get out-

And just as Olivia felt the sob in her throat, the room disappeared, and she was left with her hands up against an imaginary wall, staring at her teary eyes and her chest that was rapidly rising and falling.

"Liv?" Olivia looked behind her to see Fitz enter. "Are-" He surveyed her eyes, her pale face, and then her hands that were both shaking this time-not just the right-and frowned, eyes softening. "Liv. Are you okay? Do you want me to stay? It can be just us for a while." HIs voice was so soft and gentle and concerned, but his offer made bile unexpectedly rise in her throat, not just a result from the vividness of her flashback.

Because Olivia knew that she couldn't accept, even though she really wanted to, needed to. With a sense of burning shame, she thought to the scratches along her back, the hickey at the nape of her neck, at the bruises along her arms from their rough sex last night. Jake. Russell. She turned back to Fitz, looked into his concerned eyes, for her and only her, and knew, deep down, that she didn't even deserve him anymore. Not Fitz, with his sheer dedication and loyalty to her. Who would give up his presidency in a second to live his life with her.  
Olivia swallowed past the sour taste in her mouth, looked at the floor so he wouldn't see her tears, and gave a fast, hard, shake of her head. No. She doesn't have to look up again to know that Fitz was disappointed, crestfallen, even, that she'd pushed him away yet again. But he didn't understand, she thought, clenching her hands into fists so hard that her nails left bloody cuts in her palms.

Olivia stared defiantly at her own reflection, noting that Fitz had left quietly, and she was in privacy once more. You don't deserve him anymore, she reminded herself, brutal. Tramp-she was begging for sex, but never with the right person, and it never really helped sooth her for more than a few hours. No. Not tramp, she thought, eyeing herself in the mirror once more-Whore.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hi guys! So this is just going to be another one of those hurt/comfort chapters after something traumatizing happened to Liv, because on the show, she doesn't get any help afterwards. This particular one is set from when the bomb was detonated by Mary in 3x03 (Mrs. Smith Goes to Washington). Please R &R, and constructive criticism is always welcome!**

"This is Congressman Struthers; we're coming out peacefully, in single file," Struthers said loudly, so the bomb squad could hear through the door. He carefully opened it, seeming less pale now that Mary had collapsed to the floor, crying, her hand no longer poised above that red button.

Olivia, who was reassuring that Mary would get the best lawyer possible, looked up, still holding Mary against her. "Let's go, okay?" She asked softly. Mary nodded, looking up at her gratefully through teary eyes. Olivia, grateful that the ordeal was finally over, stood up and slowly, deliberately raised her hands up. Mary followed her example, and Olivia quickly walked out of the open door.

Just as her foot stepped across the doorway, Mary shoved her, hard, and she went stumbling forwards. And even as she fell, Olivia realized what Mary was about to do; she screamed, ripping her arm free of the bomb squad member who'd caught her. She pounded on the door, desperate, twisting the knob to no avail. " _Mary, open the door!"_ Her scream was sharp and loud, and she knew that Mary had heard. Still, the door remained closed.

When she felt the hand grip her arm, Olivia fought to remain next to that door, screaming; hands jerked her away-" _Mary!"-_ She was being dragged down the hall-" _Open the door! Mary-"_ -The door was getting further and further away, and Olivia knew with sickening dread what was about to happen.

" _Noooo!"_ The gutteral scream erupted out of her as she strained against the bomb squad surrounding her, forcing her to keep moving away. And then, just as she felt one of them roughly grab her to stop her flailing, she was thrown forwards maybe ten or fifteen feet, slamming into the ground hard enough to cause her vision to dim and flicker; maybe she even blacked out for a few seconds.

When Olivia opened her eyes, she was covered with ash, and pieces of it floated in the air, coating what remained of the furniture. She coughed, dragging in a ragged breath, and- _Oh fuck. Mary._ Olivia fought back the bile that threatened to climb up her throat as she realized that now, Mary Nesbitt was no more than a little pile of dust, blown to bits with her own homemade bomb. _Oh god._

She'd failed, Olivia realized, looking at her ripped coat and ash-coated pants, at the demolished room around her. Rough hands jerked her to her feet suddenly, and Olivia flinched before realizing that it was a bomb squad member who supported her, almost dragging her after him. A coarse orange blanket-for shock?-was thrown carelessly over her shoulders, and when she stepped away to sit on the bench, the man holding her didn't object and let her, walking away to report on what had happened.

Olivia almost wished that he'd forced her into an ambulance, to go to the hospital, because the thoughts just wouldn't stop. Totally still, Olivia felt the push over and over again, thinking that maybe if she'd just done _this_ a little differently, or fought like _that,_ Mary might still be alive. And so when Quinn showed up in front of her, harsh but apologetic in delivering her news, that Huck was obsessed with her father, Olivia actually welcomed the distraction. As it turned out, Huck hadn't killed Rowan, and Olivia managed to push away her own pain long enough to hug Huck, and then she grabbed her purse and left before she could break down too.

Fitz, his eyes riveted on the grainy video feed on the screen in front of him, clenched his hands into fists and tried to force himself to breath, a hard task when the love of his life was trapped in a building with a lunatic ready to detonate a bomb. Just when he felt that everything would maybe turn out okay, when Olivia and Mary and Struthers started walking out of that room, she saw Olivia stumble forward, herard her surprised and horrified scream, and felt his blood run cold.

Liv needed to get out of there _now,_ at _this instant,_ before that bomb went off. "Get her out of there," he growled into the radio, and his heart broke a little when the bomb squad started forcing Olivia down the hall, as he heard her panicked screams and then-nothing.

Fitz stared at the flickering grey screen and started yelling for a report on what had happened. As the other people in the situation room started calling for it, he stood.

Of course, Cyrus knew exactly where he was going, and barred his way. "Remember," he said, "I'm not going to allow you and Olivia Pope to share the same headline for the _third week running."_ "She was your student, Cy. Like a daughter to you." And just like that, Cyrus moved wordlessly.

Olivia flipped the lock to her apartment and sank onto the couch. Her hair and face were both grey with grime, but she couldn't force herself to get up and clean herself off. When there was a knock on the door, Olivia lethargically moved to open it, not bothering to check who it was. She slowly drew the door open, and then her tired eyes met Fitz's concerned grey-blue ones, and it was like all her fight had left her; she simply didn't have the energy to turn him away, even after he'd made her lie to Mary, and so she moved aside to let him step in.

"Liv. Are you okay?" Fitz closed the door quickly and then touched her shoulder gently. Olivia, a 'fine' about to form on her lips, closed her mouth and felt something twist inside of her. For the past few months, she'd locked all her emotions away into a little steel box, and had closed it so tight that even she had had trouble unlocking it. But now, the sheer _caring_ in Fitz's tone and the way he'd touched her so reassuringly seemed to open that box, and all of a sudden, Olivia was crying and crying and _crying,_ and she couldn't even fucking _breathe._

 _Get it together, Olivia,_ she thought to herself; why was this making her so emotional? She leaned against Fitz, who wrapped his arms around her, gently rubbing her back and murmuring platitudes into her ear. Olivia remembered him moving them to the sofa so they could sit down, and then saying, "I'm sorry," over and over again. When, after a long, _long_ period of time, Olivia's tears finally stopped, Fitz gently moved to stand up.

Olivia's mind instinctively thought that he was leaving, that he had to go work, and she felt her chest tighten. " _Stay?"_ God, she thought in disgust, that had sounded so disgustingly _vulnerable_ , and-

But then, she caught the small smile Fitz gave her. "I'm just going to go get a cloth to clean you up with," he whispered, and true to his word, he came back a little while later with a washcloth from her bathroom, wet with water.

He tipped her head up towards him and gently wiped away the ash, the layers of dirt on her face. Her tears had left streaks through all of it anyway, but Fitz was so gentle and careful in cleaning her up and she was half-asleep by the time he finished. And then, he started to untangle her hair and unbutton her coat, laying his suit jacket on top of her like a blanket. It smelled of him, of the White House and that cologne he wore, and she was asleep within minutes.

When she woke up, Olivia had expected Fitz to be gone, but he was besides her, still asleep. Olivia watched him, and then remembered what'd happened the day before. She knew that she would come to terms with it, but right now, she watched the sun illuminate Fitz's face, and chose to stay in this small respite of peacefulness for the time being.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Hi everyone! So I know I haven't updated any of my other fanfictions in forever, but I just don't have that many great ideas for their storylines so far, which is why I'm really only adding on to this fic at the moment. This chapter is going to be about Olivia getting sick, and Fitz coming over to take care of her, since I'm just in the mood for random, extreme fluff right now. Please R &R, and constructive criticism would be grand. Enjoy!**

Olivia knew that she should've taken better care of herself, and maybe should've forced herself to eat or sleep and take a break. However, the case had been huge, and she'd been working with her team 24/7, and she honestly hadn't had any time to do those things, which was why, as she tried to think past the pounding in her head, she was regretting her decisions.

She dialled Abby's number now, remembering that meeting she had with Fitz about his state of the union speech; he'd finally managed to persuade her into convening with some of his speechwriters, and now she was slightly regretful that she wasn't even going to be there; still, she thought, it was the thought that counted.

Abby picked up on the third ring, sounding tired. "Hello?" "Abby." Olivia winced at how bad she sounded, her voice raw. "Liv? You sound really off. Are you drunk or something?" Olivia huffed a small laugh. "I don't get drunk, Abby, at least not easily or frequently. I need you to do something for me."

The sunlight streaming in was making her head hurt even more, and she clenched her fists to try and focus on Abby's voice which sounded garbled and meaningless through the phone. Finally, she gave up and cut through Abby's monologue; "I have no idea what you're saying, but could you please fill in for me at the White House? I promised Fi-the president that I would be at his meeting. Thanks."

If Abby noticed Olivia's slight stumble over Fitz's name, she didn't show it, and instead asked, "Why?" Olivia briefly wondered if she should make up an excuse, but didn't have the energy to come up with a convincing lie, so she went with the truth. "I'm just a little...under the weather today," she said, forcing a nonchalant tone. "Wait, you're sick?" Abby asked incredulously; this was the first time Olivia had gotten sick in nearly five years, so of course she was surprised. "Abby, can you do it or not?" Olivia asked, impatient and tired. "Um-Yeah, yeah, of course." Olivia sighed a 'thanks' into the phone and then hung up.

Fitz wasn't looking forward to his meeting, but at least Olivia would be there, he thought. Frankly, he didn't care about the State of the Union, and it meant Mellie and Cyrus nagging him and nagging him about how vital his approval ratings were. However, when he entered the room, Olivia wasn't there. Everyone had stood upon his entrance, and he surveyed their faces; at Olivia's spot was a red-head, holding a black folder. Fitz absentmindedly motioned for everyone to sit down, and once the speechwriters were convening with each other, he leaned towards the red-head. "Where's Olivia?" he asked rather rudely, but he'd been looking forward to seeing her. "She couldn't come today, Mr. President; I'm Abby."

Abby proffered a hand for him to shake, but Fitz ignored it and eventually she put it down, looking annoyed. "Why couldn't she come?" "She said something about feeling under the weather, but here's the list of topics she drafted." Abby tried to give him the folder, but Fitz mumbled an excuse and went to stand by the corner, dialling Olivia's phone number. He hadn't expected her to pick up, but surprisingly, she did, after only three rings.

Olivia felt worse than before, and the email she was trying to answer blurred in and out of focus. Her headache had worsened, and she'd started coughing as well. She was pretty sure she had a fever, given how cold she was; all in all, it probably was just a mild touch of flu. When the phone on her coffee table rang, she jumped slightly, and reached for it, clearing her throat.

"Olivia Pope," she answered brusquely. "Liv?" Fitz's voice sounded concerned, and Olivia honestly thought about hanging up, but deemed that too childish and decided to bite the bullet and continue the conversation. "Hi." He didn't say 'hi' back, but immediately started asking her questions. "Why couldn't you come? Abby said you were sick? Are you okay? Are you even really sick?"

"Fitz, stop. You focus on your speech. I'm actually a little under the weather, but I'm fine." She seemed to refute the statement by coughing sharply. "Liv!" "Well, I'll be fine," Olivia sighed. "I gave Abby a list of possible topics that would make you seem likeable and appeal to most of the American people, so-" "I'm coming over," Fitz said.

"No, Fitz, you can't afford to get sick. Also, you still have the meeting. I'll talk to you later. Bye." Olivia hung up before Fitz could reply.

Fitz's mind wasn't on the meeting, and he offhandedly agreed to Abby's words-in the end, he chose immigration and foreign policy to be his speech topic, and told the writers to not make him sound too liberal or conservative, but moderate. Obviously, they were well-versed in what they should write, but at that point, Fitz was just saying things to keep them satisfied.

Once the meeting ended, Fitz thanked everyone and told Tom to get his car ready. Cyrus blocked his way furiously, knowing exactly where Fitz was about to go. "Didn't you tell me to start acting like a president?" Fitz asked. "Well, here I am, as your president, telling you to get the hell out of my way." He unceremoniously moved Cyrus aside, though gently, and got into the waiting car.

Olivia coughed again, and wondered if she needed some sort of medicine. Her cupboards had nothing in them, and she was starting to feel incredibly dizzy. She was just wondering if it was worth moving to turn up the heat when someone knocked on her door. She got up and looked through the peephole. Oh dear god, he'd actually came. She opened the door, opening her mouth to chastise him, but then coughed instead. His blue-grey eyes instantly filled with concern. "Livvie, are you okay?"

"Fitz, I'm finc! You're supposed to be at the White House." "I have speech writers," Fitz said. "You're not just supposed to be writing that speech; you're supposed to be _running the country_ ," Olivia retorted, although the effect was ruined when she stumbled slightly, a wave of dizziness passing over her.

Fitz frowned at Olivia; she looked exhausted-well, of course, she looked beautiful, as always, but he saw that she was shivering slightly even with a blanket draped over her shoulders and that she was holding onto the door for support. The whole time he'd known her, Fitz hadn't seen Olivia being vulnerable; she'd loosened up when she was with him, sure, but most of the time, she was still Olivia Pope, fierce gladiator and political fixer that could fight anything and come out unscathed. Even when they were fighting, when she was near tears, she was invulnerable and fierce. Now, she looked small without her usual power suit on, and he just wanted to help her.

Olivia noticed that Fitz was studiously studying her, and she sighed. "Come in," she said, returning to her position on the couch. Fitz joined her, sinking down next to her, his gaze moving to the TV turned to the news with the volume low. He knew that she liked to hear it in the background, and Olivia opened up her laptop, returning to her emails so he could see that she was working. However, he leaned over and took the laptop out of her hands after a short while, and before Olivia could say anything, but his hand on her forehead to check her temperature.

She was warm, too warm, hot, even. He realized she was shivering still, and that she was squinting her eyes the way she did when she had a headache. Fitz didn't have much experience taking care of sick adults, but he'd cared for Gerry, Karen, and Teddy often enough that he knew relatively what to do.

For one, he went and checked all the cabinets in Olivia's apartment and when he found only toothpaste, wine, and popcorn, called for one of his SSAs to get some medicine. Olivia was on her phone now, and Fitz took that away too. "Okay, let's go to bed," he said, gently standing her up.

Olivia didn't protest much, but simply let Fitz lead her to the bedroom and draw the blankets over her. "How'd the meeting go?" she finally asked, slightly awkwardly. "It was fine. Your substitute, Gabby-" "Abby," Olivia corrected immediately. Fitz, who honestly hadn't been focusing on Ga-Abby that much, laughed slightly. "Abby, then. She was capable. And slightly annoying."

That earned a smile out of Olivia. "Yeah, that's why she's so good at her job." Just then, the SSA walked in with the medicine, Fitz thanked him profusely, sifting through the bag. "Okay, why don't you take some Tylenol?" He handed Olivia the container, and she opened it and dry-swallowed the pills. Fitz raised an eyebrow at her efficiency, but then realized that he shouldn't be surprised; this was Olivia Pope, he thought humorously.

"You should go." Fitz looked down at her, curled in on herself. "What?" "You should go back to the White House and do your job. The medicine will kick in; thanks for that, by the way." "What? No, Olivia, when will it sink in? I'm not leaving you when you're sick; I'm going to help you." For a second, it was so quiet that Fitz looked down at her to see if she'd fallen asleep. But then, she said, in a whisper so quiet that it was barely discernible: " _I don't like you seeing me like this."_

Fitz laid down next to her and kissed her forehead. "Come on Liv." He kissed her nose. Olivia sighed. "I'm. Not. Leaving," Fitz whispered into her ear, and then felt her roll against him, her face against his chest and he smiled. "Get some sleep," he told her, and before long, he felt her breathing even out and held her closer.

Olivia woke up to her stomach turning and bile crawling up her throat. She threw off the covers and ran to the bathroom, gagging and emptying mostly bile into the toilet, as she hadn't eaten anything in nearly two days. As she dry-heaved and choked on the sourness of the bile, she felt Fitz's hands on her shoulders, felt him holding her hair back, and somehow that made it all a little more bearable.

Once the gagging had stopped, Olivia flushed the toilet and leaned against the cool porcelain and Fitz, his arms around her. A little while later, she sat up and rinsed her mouth, washed her face, brushed her hair.

"You want anything to eat?" Fitz asked her. Olivia thought about this. Her stomach had settled, and she did feel okay, less shivery and dizzy and weak than-"Fitz, how long was I asleep?" "It's a new day," he laughed, to her amazement-the day before. "Popcorn?" Olivia proposed. Fitz chuckled.

"Nice try," he laughed, "But I got you some real food. Well, sort of; soup. I also woke you up last night, by the way, but you might not remember it." Olivia tried to think; everything last night had been a haze, and she could dimly remember panic and darkness and then Fitz's voice in her ear. "I-I had a nightmare," she said, and Fitz nodded.

"It sort of freaked me out," he smiled ruefully, "but we got through it. Now do you want any soup?" "That depends; did you cook it?" Olivia teased him. "My cooking is decent, thank you very much," Fitz replied, glad to see her more normal and energetic. They went downstairs, and Fitz ladled the soup into a bowl. "Didn't your parents make you anything like this when you were sick?"

Olivia huffed out a laugh. "My parents didn't care; besides, I was at a boarding school for most of my time with them, at least the time I can remember clearly. There was an infirmary for illnesses, I think." She took another spoonful of soup and then looked up at him. "Thank you, Fitz, for staying," she said slowly, looking down again, and then back up when she felt his arms around her.

"Yeah, anything for you," he smiled. He leaned down to kiss her, _really_ kiss her, and she pulled away. "You'll get sick," she reprimanded him. "And your job doesn't really allow that." "Dare I hope you come to the White House and take care of me if that happens? Through sickness and through health, right?" This earned him a full-on grin from her. "Yes, Fitz. Through sickness and through health," she replied, and finally let him kiss her.

 _~Fin_


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Hello everyone! Apologies for the late update, but school has been hectic this month, and I just haven't really had time. Anyway, I wrote this after watching 6x11, Trojan Horse, and it's just a very short oneshot about Liv's feelings during the last scene in the episode. I wouldn't say that this includes that much smut, per se; I mean, it's clear what Liv and Fitz are doing, but I think I'm going to put off writing actual descriptive smut for the moment. Please R &R, as it's much appreciated! Also, for those who wanted me to do an alternative ending to past episodes, I'm currently rewatching, so those will come soon :)**

Olivia storms into the Residence, furiously whirling towards Fitz. "I told you to leave my father alone, _I told you!"_ She can hear the hysteria in her voice, and tries to slip back into her 'Olivia Pope' armor as she continues, even though she knows that Fitz can see right through her shield. "And for some reason, you find it very hard to believe that if I had to choose between you and him, you will lose!"

She couldn't believe that he had done this, after she'd expressly told him not to. However, her glare falters slightly when Fitz grabs the remote and switches on the TV. "You want to stop yelling at me?" he asks, and Olivia turns to see what the screen is displaying.

For a moment, her breathing stops. Her father. Safe. Not rotting away in some cold jail cell. A gasp of relief whooshes out of her mouth, and she feels slightly ashamed of her previous fury. She's dimly aware of Fitz saying something: "-now we can take focus on taking down Peus together."

Peus. The name brings back all her turmoil, and she tries to hide her flinch as she remembers walking into that room and seeing Mellie covered in blood, and the body of Elizabeth North prone on the floor. How that had brought back a surge of memories as she remembers killing Nichols, smashing that chair over and over again into his head, feeling his skull cave and flecks of blood and brain splatter her face.

God, she just wants to forget, so Olivia walks over and joins Fitz on the sofa and looks into his concerned, genuine eyes. Her mind flashes back to their hug in the hospital, their hug in the Oval just a few days ago. Trying to smother her conflicting emotions, she leans forward and takes the initiative, something rare for her, and draws him close to her, pressing her lips to his.

She feels him stiffen with surprise, but not resistance. After a while, his hand cautiously slides up to touch her face, and his lips part slightly, helping her, allowing her to kiss him. As they kiss slowly, tenderly, Olivia closes her eyes, feeling the sting of tears behind them.

God, she had missed him, had missed the way that he could make her feel safe, at home, with just one touch. She'd been trying too hard over the past few months, and after she'd imagined the alternative scenario in her head, she'd realized that it wasn't about the Oval. The Oval was never going to make her happy-Fitz would.

He was solid and reassuring under her tentative hands as they wound their way on his back. She stands, and leads him into the bedroom, and they collapse on the bed, his hands fumbling with her suit. She strips off his suit and loosens his tie, throwing them carelessly over a chair.  
He manages to get her clothes off as well, and then they're pressed so close together that Olivia can't tell where they merge. " _Missed you,"_ she whispers into his neck, needing a respite from being strong and confident after so many months of hiding her turmoil in order to do the best for Mellie and the campaign.

His hands slide to her bra, unclipping them with the ease of having done so dozens of times before. Olivia moans as he enters her, and then is lost to the rush of ecstasy that follows. He knows her body, knows it like he knows his own, so he can tell just when to do what, and she feels loved and safe as his hands gently slide along her skin. " _Mmm, more,"_ she whispers into his chest as he works his magic on her, something that she'd been deprived of for quite a while.

He complies, and after several rounds, they're both spent, and she places her head on his chest, listening to the sound of his heart that takes her away from all her worries. Olivia stares at the ceiling, and wonders if she can say it. If it's not too soon.

She flashes back to her imagined reality, of her handing Fitz the folder with images of the house, and she decides that she can. " _I love you,"_ she whispers in the dark, and for a moment, wonders what she will do if he doesn't say it back, but then she hears, " _I love you too,"_ in his quiet baritone, and she leans up to kiss him again, feeling more grounded than she had in a very long time.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: I know I'm super late in writing this, but I'm finally on summer break so I should be able to update sort of periodically now, haha. Anyway, this is based on the events from 6x12, after the bunker scene, and in this, Olivia goes to see Fitz. I've borrowed some lines from the episode itself, but it is merely borrowing, for I don't at all, in any way, own this brilliant show. So, without further delay, please R &R! Constructive criticism is much appreciated! **

" _You don't take Olivia Pope. Olivia Pope takes you."_ Her words hang in the silence for a moment, and then she turns on her heel and leaves, relishing the shocked look on the other woman's face; Olivia finally had a semblance of the upper hand, and it left her feeling good for the first time in a long time. Then, the thought comes to her that she was just mimicking her father's control, and that good feeling dissipates rapidly as his words in the room come back to her: "Is this what you call winning? Worthless!"

Of course, Fitz had immediately challenged him, and then came the response: "I said worthless, as in everyone in this room, as in you, as in this inconsequential, futile, worthless attempt to get rid of the problem at hand." And at Fitz's intervention in defense of her, Olivia had reprimanded him. God, she regrets that now as her father's next words play again in her mind: "And what about you, Mr. President, should I respect you? A man who could have arrested his son's killer but traded that chance for a cheap roll in the hay? That is why you spared me, yes? So that you could buy your way back into my daughter's bed? I'm just cash to you, a wrinkled dollar bill thrown at the foot of a stripper! You should know all about that from your daddy!"

And then Fitz is on his feet, his jaw set, his eyes hard as he makes a beeline towards Rowan. She can remember exactly what happens, and can remember every single word that had come out of her father's mouth. The fact that he had said them in front of Fitz and Jake and everyone else when tensions were already high between them all made her feel even lower, and the old insecurity comes back; maybe her father is right, she thinks, recalling how Mellie had looked stricken, how Jake had lowered his eyes uncomfortably, how there had been shifting and moving as her father spits that she is a whore, not important to Fitz at all but merely a prize to be won by him.

This is all she can think as she walks into the Residence, exhausted but wanting to see Fitz nonetheless, especially after what had transpired last night. "Hey," Fitz says, looking up from editing his speech with raised eyebrows. Olivia reads the challenge on his face, almost as if he's saying: "Are you going to actually let me in?" She remembers how she'd walked away from him after Rowan's words, and involuntarily feels a twinge of guilt. They, her especially, would need to try harder if they wanted to maintain this relationship, and she sighs. "Hi," she replies, sitting down next to him on the bed.

"You look tired," he says, again with the same challenge in his tone, daring her to tell him that she's fine and walk away. She doesn't, and he seemed slightly mollified. They sit in silence for a few more minutes, the scratch of his pen as he crosses things out the only sound in the room. "I handled her," Olivia finally says at length, and she doesn't have to elaborate. Fitz nods, putting his pen down. "Want to just go to bed?" he asks. Olivia looks at him in surprise. "Okay," she says quietly, and she starts changing out of her suit, Fitz shrugging off his button-down and throwing on a t-shirt.

Five minutes later, it's dark in the room and they're laying next to each other, Olivia's head resting gingerly on Fitz's chest because it's been awhile since they've done this, just slept side by side. And they're not really sleeping, or even trying to, not really, because they're both thinking the same thing, Olivia knows.

In the dark, Fitz suddenly starts to talk. "What your father said today," he begins, "he was wrong." "I know," is Olivia's automatic response. "I'm fine." "You're the love of my life," Fitz goes on. "And I need you to stop internalizing what he said-I know you have-because you're so much more than that, so much more important than what he implied. You're not something to be won, not a consolation prize, and I didn't spare him for you; I wasn't even thinking about you, I just-Look, just know that every moment we've spent together, whether it's those little moments on the phone or in the Oval or just working on speeches or whatever, those are special. You're special."

And Olivia feels the lump in her throat threaten to choke her as she whispers a shaky, inadequate, "Okay," and rolls closer to him. She's quiet, and Fitz can hear her uneven breathing in the dark and he knows that she's crying, maybe because she had needed to hear that so badly, maybe because she's exhausted and his words were too much on top of everything else. "You okay?" he asks after her breathing tapers out a bit, and feels her nod.

And Olivia does. She does feel okay. "Thanks," she says, followed by a quiet, "I love you." Fitz smiles as he presses his face into her hair and breathes in the lingering scent of her shampoo. "I love you too," he replies, and they stay casually entwined together until they both drift off into sleep.


End file.
